


Kiss Me (Like You Wanna Be Loved)

by LosingInterest



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15802200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosingInterest/pseuds/LosingInterest
Summary: Five times they kiss and the one they can't do.***“Hush,” I feel Seungri’s weak protest against my collarbone as he buries his face on my neck. I kiss his forehead, a touch that’s so ancient and reserved for good; checking fever, bidding good night, saddest farewell, or like ours, a reminder of another given time that we’re still together. “Sleep now.”





	Kiss Me (Like You Wanna Be Loved)

**Author's Note:**

> So I hold you close to help you give it up

**1.**

Everywhere I look, there are mess everywhere. Pillows are scattered on the floor instead of their respective spots on the sofa-bed. There are three bowls on the kitchen counter, each filled with different kind of fruit. A can of whipped cream is standing abandoned near the sink.

“Over here.”

“Seungri?” I respond right away, stuttering despite the ridiculousness of the view in my own house. “What happened?”

He is on my bed, the box of first aid kit I kept in my bathroom is by his side, half of its inside had somehow crawl out.

“What happened?”

“Plan went wrong,” he shrugs. “Surprise.”

“I _am_ surprised,” I frown. “What were you doing?”

“Making cake,” he winches at my expression. “Baking.”

“I didn’t see any cake.”

“It’s inside the trash bin.”

“Oh,” I don’t know what to say about that. “Why?”

Seungri rolls his eyes. “Because it’s a trash, hyung.”

“Not good?”

“It got a taste of cardboard,” he whines, pouting. “Not that I ever tasted a cardboard before.”

“Right,” I smile. “And what’s the occasion, by the way?”

“You can’t be serious,” he narrows his eyes, mouth stretched into a thin line that wordlessly saying _you’ve got to be kidding me._

“Huh?”

“Your birthday? The day you were born?”

“That was a week ago?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here.”

“I might be old but I remember clearly the ugly voice note of you screaming happy birthday,” I laugh.

“Hey!”

“It’s my current ringtone.”

“Kinky,” Seungri clicks his tongue, his reddened cheeks betray his sarcasm.

“I am.”

“Keep that going and you won’t get any cakes.”

“I thought you fed the trash bin with it?”

“ _Another_ one, you dumbass.”

“Honorific, sweetheart.”

He snorts. “Sorry, grandpa.”

“So, where’s my cake?”

“On its way, no more homemade stupidity,” he waves his hand nonchalantly. The offending object wrapped around his forefinger catches my attention. “I asked them to deliver wine too.”

“Band-aid,” I strive closer to him until I’m close enough to take his hand in mine. “Why?”

“Oh,” he flushes as if he’s been caught doing something stupid, which he probably did anyway. “Accident.”

“I thought you were baking cake, not being a ninja shit.”

“I was cutting strawberries.”

“We don’t even like fruits.”

“For decoration, duh.”

I flick his forehead with annoyance. “You and your aesthetic.”

“For cakes,” he grins.

“Shut up.”

Seungri laughs. “You love me anyway.”

“I do,” I admit, letting his mouth spread wider with happiness. “Happy birthday to me.”

“Happy birthday to you.”

I put his band-aided finger on my lips. “I can kiss it better.”

“You can kiss me better.”

“I can kiss you,” I lean forward, my breath hitches despite the fact that it’s not our first kiss. “Here,” my heart aches.

“Here,” Seungri’s eyes flash with something dark and sad but it’s gone too fast before I could ask him about it. “Yes, you can.”

So I do just that.

 

**2.**

“Hyung.”

I growl absentmindedly.

“Hyung.”

The hands are shaking me and I’m surely going to shake him back later when I wake up, which I do not plan anytime sooner. My limbs are exhausted enough from the entire journey in the plane I could sleep to the next century.

“Kwon Jiyong!”

I snap my eyes open, trying to burn him to ashes with my gaze. “What?!”

“You’re hogging the blanket,” he dares to challenge me by narrowing his eyes then backs down completely the next moment after. “It’s cold,” he mumbles.

I, in fact, have become one with the blanket somehow. All of it, mind you. I’ve turned into caterpillar and using this sheet as my cocoon.

“Sorry,” I rasp, trying to shift the blanket into its original purpose. “Didn’t mean to.”

“This is why I don’t like sleeping with you,” Seungri teases but joining me under the softness the instant I lift the corner for him.

“Unless we’re fucking?” I say innocently and receive a smack on my arm immediately. “You don’t seem to complain about that.”

“Ha ha. Let’s sleep.”

“Seriously though, the only complain I’ve heard about is that I wasn’t being _harder_.”

“We are going to sleep, hyung.”

“I thought you don’t like sleeping with me?”

“Because you stole the blanket away!”

“Hush,” I feel Seungri’s weak protest against my collarbone as he buries his face on my neck. I kiss his forehead, a touch that’s so ancient and reserved for good; checking fever, bidding good night, saddest farewell, or like ours, a reminder of another given time that we’re still together. “Sleep now.”

“After you.”

 

**3.**

Seungri is beautiful. His parted lips, his eyelashes soft against his skin, the curl of his bedhair. The rising of his eyelids when he’s stumbling back from dreamland, the way he mouths a good morning. Seungri is beautiful, beyond words, and Jiyong is falling.

Literally, landing with a thud on his skinny naked ass.

“Fuck off,” he scoffs when the younger laughs. “Not funny,” he scrambles to get back to bed, already shivering without the hug from his blanket.

“It was,” Seungri welcomes him back in the bed with another round of laughter that makes Jiyong shove him lightly with a scowl. “What a sight.”

“You like seeing me naked on the floor?” Jiyong pinches his side and Seungri yelps helplessly.

“Romantic, isn’t it?”

“What are we? _Titanic_?”

“Aww, Rose.”

“Go to hell, Jack.”

“Not without you, my love.”

“Want to fall for me, sweetheart?”

“Nah, darling,” Seungri bats his eyelashes sweetly. “I’ve fallen for your heart already.”

“Asshole,” Jiyong laughs and lunges forward to tickle him, not stopping until Seungri is all but squirming in his arms. “Yield!”

“This is bed!” Seungri manages to gasp in between his series of laughter. “Not battlefield!”

 _Not now_ , Jiyong thinks as he pins Seungri’s wrists above his head, holding them down with his hands. One day, the other shoe will drop and everywhere –their career, their parents, their families, their friends, their dreams –will be a battlefield, but not now, hopefully not today. He leans down to capture Seungri’s mouth with his own and Seungri’s acceptance is immediate, sending tingles all over Jiyong’s body like fireworks. Like a birth of star.

“Not battlefield,” Jiyong murmurs softly, lowering himself until they’re chest to chest, until there’s no way their synchronized heartbeat to be mistaken. _Not yet._

 

**4.**

“Pay attention to me,” Jiyong throws a popcorn, which hits the back of Seungri’s head perfectly.

“I am,” Seungri hums, his eyes are glued to his new book. His new stupid book about leadership, character building, how to manage your anger, and whatever fucking else that caught the younger man’s focus for an hour already.

“Do you even know what we are watching?”

“Your favorite sappy drama, what else?” Seungri smiles, reading few words under his breath but loud enough for Jiyong to pick up and realize that the book is not written in Korean.

“No, it’s not,” Jiyong whines. It’s Goong and it’s the second episode and it’s not Jiyong’s current favorite drama today. His list keeps changing everyday but Seungri doesn’t know that.

“Oh, okay.”

“It’s our Netflix and chill moment and you’re ruining it.”

“It’s not even Netflix and we _are_ chilling, hyung.”

“You are reading,” Jiyong pouts.

“Chill.”

“Move out from my couch.”

“We are in _my_ house?”

“I’m not moving.”

“You don’t have to,” Seungri rolls his eyes then resumes to the paragraph he’s currently reading. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You are not doing anything.”

“I’m reading, darling.”

“This is our movie date.”

“You claimed the popcorn bucket and picked the movie, which is not a movie but episodes of drama, hyung.”

“Whatever,” Jiyong press the off button on the remote, slumping defensively on the couch, closing his eyes. His position is entirely uncomfortable but his anger is making him not moving anywhere until Seungri gives in. Seungri, who has known him for years now, smiles and thanks God for letting him reading in peace finally.

 

The next moment Jiyong opens his eyes, he is greeted with a pair of eyes.

“What,” he says, his throat is dry and his neck hurts.

“You told me to pay attention,” Seungri shrugs and he is glowing with sunset light that manages to sneak through into the room. “So I am.”

“Sure you are,” Jiyong tugs him forward until Seungri’s lips are against his and Seungri’s hand rests on his side.

“I am,” Seungri assures him with his tongue, poking and caressing and exploring in Jiyong’s mouth. “I always am.”

“When you’re done with your book,” Jiyong mumbles but he lets himself being undressed, going pliant under Seungri’s touches.

“Exactly,” Seungri laughs into his neck. “Let’s chill for now.”

“Chill,” Jiyong snorts. “All right.”

 

**5.**

One moment Seungri is yelling at him and the next they’re glued together, lips to lips. It’s fever, passionate and vengeful fire that burns, something so since that it hurts. It’s hurting, for real, but Jiyong lets himself bleeding.

 _I’m sorry_ , he speaks soundlessly, sending the thought into Seungri within stolen breaths. The air is disappearing but he is alive, alight with courage.

 _I’m really sorry_ , he hopes to transfer, to tell, to shout as Seungri tugs him impossibly closer, mad and anger and rage are what surrounding them.

 _I should’ve told you,_ Jiyong holds him, holds them both from breaking. He is the one breaking them, after all. _I should’ve done better_.

His head buzzes and it’s probably a warning, a reprimand of his stupid action for the past two days. He supposes that’s a small punishment for ignoring calls and locking himself in his house, making people worried over him. A habit that’s hard to quit. He hates that he was unable to control his thoughts that it’s been years since the last time he let it get too much into his heart, but it’s passed now.

Seungri bites his lower lip and it stings but it’s anchoring him to life so he doesn’t complain. Seungri is taking him back, Seungri is not letting go, despite his previous action.

 _Stupid asshole_ , Jiyong hears him in his head and realizes that Seungri is also trying to send him messages through their kisses. _Don’t leave me again_.

 _I won’t_ , Jiyong gasps as he’s shaking with fear, with strength, with all the emotion he’s been trying to bury down inside him. _I’m sorry_.

 _I love you_ , Seungri says. It rings in the air like church bells, too loud to be forgotten. _I love you._

“I love you too,” Jiyong’s eyes are blurry with tears. It’s all right because Seungri is crying too, clutching at him like he’s going to disappear any minute now. “I love you too.”

 

**+1.**

There are angels everywhere. Some of them flying in the air, supported by strings, constantly flying on the same spot. Most of them are on shelves though, holding a harp, blowing their stupid little trumpet, or hugging a bible.

“Done choosing?” Seungri’s voice startles him.

Jiyong shakes his head and picks up one of the many, which has the most golden hair and red cheeks. The angel’s eyes are closed. “They’re all weird.”

“We need some for the tree,” Seungri reminds him. “Come on.”

“Fine,” Jiyong huffs and resumes his staring. Honest to God, they’re all look ridiculous. Plastic and ceramic and too many colors. Or too pale it resembles ghost instead.

“I think we need another light,” Seungri mumbles and before Jiyong can ask what kind of light he’s talking about, he already disappears to the next aisle.

 _Fine_ , Jiyong thinks with a new resolution. He can do this. Of all those silly Christmas ornaments Seungri had made list about, his only task is to pick some little angels they will hang on the tree later. He only has one job, just the one.

The one in front of him is making a face. Maybe it’s the failure in production, maybe it was meant to be like that, mocking everyone in this cheap store who’s not so lucky to be able to choose better ornaments from online catalogue or buying them somewhere where it’s made with precision and by request. Jokes on it because the only unlucky thing Jiyong is having now is his Seungri who insisted on dragging him to this place for the sake of having a _normal_ Christmas.

 _Let’s see if your creativity will function just normally without those expensive and artistic stuff you usually got from personal acquaintance_ , Seungri had said, knowing fully that Jiyong would not back down from the challenge.

Something on the bottom shelf catches his eyes. He bends down to reach it and examines it once it’s on his palm. It’s smaller than the rest, the only one who has no sisters or brothers with the same attire in the shelf. Lost, one of a kind. Its wing is chipped off, probably fell earlier from someone’s careless hand. It doesn’t have a halo or instrument, it’s not clasping its hand to pray. The angel’s smile looks strained and it’s just standing on its feet instead of tiptoe-ing like most of the others. It’s broken and ugly and doesn’t belong.

“Found anything yet?”

Jiyong shifts his gaze to Seungri, to his hopeful mood and dreamy smile. There’s a stupid _I love you_ invisibly written on his face everytime Jiyong is near. There’s this silly head tilt he’d do when he caught Jiyong looking at him and he’s doing that just now. It sends a flutter to Jiyong’s stomach and he has to slowdown his breath to tame the urge to kiss Seungri right there, in the middle of crowded store that smells like rain and old books. He can’t. They can’t.

“Yeah,” Jiyong hands him his treasure, watching the angel rolls onto Seungri’s palm. “This one.”

Seungri examines it thoroughly and Jiyong’s breath hitched when his thumb strokes the damaged part of its wing. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Jiyong croaks. “I like it.”

“I love it too,” Seungri agrees. “Just this one?”

Jiyong shrugs. Life gives so many choices instead of two many times. There are endless possibilities, infinity strings of fate, numbers of doors you can choose to open and close. Funny enough, it’s often the one with the most difficult road that keeps you alive. “Just this one.”

“All right,” Seungri intertwines their fingers. “Let’s pay all these and we go home.”

“Home,” Jiyong follows him, basking in the warmth Seungri radiates from beneath his three layers of clothing. “Okay.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly taken from Ed Sheeran's song "Kiss Me", one of my favorite from his.
> 
>  
> 
>  


End file.
